


Hold Fast to Me

by Flamingbluepanda



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, M/M, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Touching, touch as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamingbluepanda/pseuds/Flamingbluepanda
Summary: Don’t interrupt him, I’m fine!Joe wants to scream, even as every piece of him craves Nicky’s arms around him, holding him together as he flies apart.Or,Five times Joe was afraid to hold a member of his family, and the one time they held him
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 53
Kudos: 591





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this one is "Cuddle the Joe" and that's about all you need to know for this one. Also note the warnings, there is a mildly graphic description of a panic attack in the last part of this. 
> 
> Dedicated to everyone who has contributed to the "Yusuf needs a hug" tag. Its the most Ultimate Tag Ever.

**_Nicolo_ **

Yusuf didn’t understand why his new traveling companion caught his attention quite so often. 

It was approximately three months since they laid down their swords and agreed to work together. Nicolo was an adept hunter, and while he didn’t have Yusuf’s knack for languages he was picking up on the languages of the region fairly quickly. 

None of that pissed Yusuf off. Even the habits he didn’t appreciate didn’t piss Yusuf off. 

No, for some reason the thing that made Yusuf  _ seethe  _ was the way Nicolo looked in the firelight, the way the sun caught his hair and his eyes changed colors.

He looked so… warm. Which was foolish, because Nicolo’s skin didn’t take any of the sun's rays as coloring, so he remained pale as could be despite traveling through a literal desert. His hair often went unwashed and yet Yusuf wondered if it was as smooth as it looked- silky, compared to Yusuf’s own unruly curls. He just wanted to touch it.

But of course, the one and only time he’d rested a casual hand on Nicolo’s arm, Nicolo had thrown him off.

That was two months ago. Yusuf was brave in many things but. Not this. 

At night he dreamed of strange and fierce women on horses. They were positively terrifying, on top of being… well.

_ Intimate. _

Yusuf had no objections to their actions, would be an intense hypocrite if he judged them when he himself preferred his sex to the fairer but…

He also feels envious. Not of what they do but of what they  _ have.  _ Of the ability to touch and be touched. To hold and be held.

Yusuf grew up in a home made from love. He watched his  _ baba _ dance his  _ umma _ around the kitchen, would fall asleep in his brother’s bed when he had bad dreams, and would always always always return home to a hug from his sisters. 

Now, he has none of those things. He curls in as tight as he can on his bedroll to conserve heat in the cool nights, and his only companion is the constant ache in his stomach from lack of food. 

Well, that and death. He dies quite often- at least he wakes up warm. 

Until the day he wakes up too warm. The day he wakes up slick with blood and- 

And hands, clutching his shoulders. And a heaving, hitching,  _ sobbing  _ chest against his nose. 

Yusuf stays very still, tries to remember what happened. He and Nicolo were fighting some bandits away from a family with children, one of the bandits had gotten Yusuf on the-

Oh.

Had he been disemboweled?

That… would explain the blood. And why his stomach muscles were still knitting back together. It did  _ not  _ explain why Nicolo was clutching Yusuf to his chest and  _ wailing. _

“Nic’olo?” Yusuf managed from where his face was squished against the man’s tunic. He shifted his weight, and Nicolo’s breath hitched as he grabbed Yusuf by the shoulders and thrust him back to look at him. “Yusuf?!”

Yusuf winced at the sudden movement, then looked up at his companion “Yes?”

“You’re  _ not dead!”  _

Nicolo hugged him again, tightly. Yusuf sat there, frozen in shock. Nicolo was  _ warm,  _ just as warm as Yusuf imagined. He swallowed thickly and brought his arms up to hug him back. 

It was… nice. 

“You took so long,” Nicolo managed in his accented, broken Ligurian. “You- I thought you gone.”

“I- I suppose more severe things take more time,” Yusuf said, hoping to god Nicolo never let him go. “I apologize but it was either me or that girl and-”

“Of course,” Nicolo said, and then he was  _ laughing.  _ “Of course you- You are too kind for your own good sometimes.”

Yusuf’s heart sped in his chest, and oh, he was  _ blushing. _

“Yes well,” Yusuf smiled into Nicolo’s shoulder “I suppose I must be. Traveling with a  _ frank.” _

His tone was light, teasing, and sure enough, Nicolo snorted. He pulled back a little to look Yusuf in the eye, weary. “Just… do not do it again, yes?”

“I cannot promise that, just as you can’t,” Yusuf said, sad that the hug was apparently over.

But then, Nicolo offered him a hand up. That night, he rested a hand on Yusuf’s arm when he offered him dinner. Things got better after that.

(A year and a half later, Yusuf had Nicolo’s permission to touch him as he pleased, and Yusuf took advantage of this so often that he thought they might melt into one another. Yusuf told Nicolo about his past fears and Nicolo laughed and kissed him and said he was blessed by Yusuf’s touches, that his beloved must surely be an angel to have such gentle hands.)

* * *

**_Quynh_ **

When they found Andromache and Quynh, they called them  _ children.  _

Nicolo had been offended at first, but Yusuf had pointed out that Andromache and Quynh were older than the christ Nicolo had worshiped so fervently so Nicolo accepted the moniker. 

Still, the knowledge that these two women were so much older and more terrifying was more than a little intimidating. Yusuf mostly treated them like he would any commander- with respect, not questioning orders. Occasionally it felt more like a friendship but mostly, it was all professional.

_ He  _ was trying to act professionally at least. How else was he supposed to act? He  _ cared  _ about them, more than words, but telling them that would probably just get him mocked. Nicolo, of course, seemed to think he was being foolish.

“They  _ like  _ you, habibi,” He’d tease, “how could they not when you are the kindest man to walk this earth?”

And then Yusuf would be so in love that he’d have to kiss him. 

They were on a mission that required splitting up, however, and Yusuf had no one to talk him out of his own head. He and Quynh were in a port city, waiting for news from Andromache and Nicolo. They’d gotten caught in a rainstorm, and poor Quynh had been knocked into a mud puddle. 

Yusuf was sitting on the bed, back respectfully turned as Quynh bathed in the tub the inn had provided. She sighed loudly for the fourth time, then cursed under her breath.

Yusuf swallowed his nerves, then cautiously peeked up from his book to see what was wrong.

He’d seen both Quynh and Andromache naked before, often together. It didn’t make it any less odd to see Quynh sitting there in her nudity, angrily tugging at her tangled hair with a comb.

“I may have to cut it,” She sighed, knowing he was looking at her. Of course, she did, this was  _ Quynh,  _ his… sister? And she loved her hair.

The words fell from his mouth unbidden “I can comb and braid it if you want.”

Quynh looked up at him, and Yusuf blushed. “I- I used to do it for my sisters. I’m quite good at it.”

Quynh’s face broke out into a wide smile “could you? Andromache is awful at braids, I don’t understand why.” 

Yusuf set his book to the side and grabbed a stool from the corner of the room. He settled directly behind Quynh and held his hand out for the comb. “I haven’t done this in a while, so let me know if I hurt you.”

Quynh hummed, letting him tilt her head this way and that. There was something familiar and meditative about this- dragging a comb through long, dark hair. Patiently soaking and working through tangles. He’d been working for maybe ten minutes when Quynh sighed happily and said “your sister was a very lucky woman, to have such a gentle and attentive brother.”

Yusuf chuckled and took the compliment for what it was. “Sisters. Four of them, along with two nieces when I left. My mother as well- although I will admit, it’s much easier to do this on straight hair.” 

“I could do yours if you’d like.” Quynh offered. Yusuf’s hair was particularly long right now, falling to his shoulder blades and often kept tied behind his head or tucked under a scarf. Yusuf rarely let anyone, bar Nicolo, touch his hair and beard. They were such intimate things for him, for his faith. But Quynh…

“I’ll take you up on that,” he decided, setting the comb to the side. “Lean forward, please. Do you want one braid or two?”

“Just the one, for now. Tight.”

Yusuf parted the hair into three, then wound the three parts back together in a braid. Next time, he’d offer to do a fancier twist, perhaps he could thread some ribbon or silk through it, the way Maryam had favored when their father brought back bits from his travels. 

His hands stuttered. He couldn’t remember Maryam’s face. 

“Done,” he said, tying the braid off. Quynh reached back to touch it, then turned and smiled at him. “It’s perfect! Thank you.”

“Of course,” Yusuf nodded, offering her a hand to step out of the tub. She toweled herself off and dressed quickly, fetching their money bag. “I’ll go find dinner- do you want to take it up here?”

Yusuf nodded, settling back on the bed. He hesitated, then said “Quynh?” 

She looked at him from where she was securing her cloak, and Yusuf swallowed.

“I don’t sleep as well,” he managed, “without Nicolo? I’m used to sharing a bed. I won’t do anything untoward-“

“You’re adorable,” Quynh came over and kissed his cheek. “I’d be honored.”

(When Nicolo and Andromache returned three weeks later, Yusuf and Quynh had formed a habit of laying all over each other. Years and years later, they split ways for a time- Yusuf and Nicolo to Egypt and Quynh and Andromache to England. 

Yusuf hugs both Andromache and Quynh tightly before they leave, but he holds Quynh just a little longer. 

He’s glad for it, later.

Five hundred years later, he gets to hug her again) 

* * *

**_Andromache_ **

Nicolo claimed that Yusuf’s hugs could stop wars.

Yusuf thought this was foolish, that his beloved was overdramatic and in love, and Nicolo would always reply “maybe so, but am I  _ wrong?”  _

Yusuf was a large man, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He knows he gives good hugs. He also knows that Andromache does  _ not  _ enjoy hugs. 

Yusuf stuck to hands on shoulders, knees nudging knees, the occasional kiss on the cheek, and embrace. Andromache doesn’t like hugs, so Joe doesn’t hug her. Simple as that.

_ However _

Andromache feels things strongly, even if she won’t admit it. She feels like she’s far better at masking emotions than she is, and in a crisis, she can hide well. But she’s too like Yusuf. It’s all in the eyes, Nicolo would proclaim as he read them both like an open book, the eyes tell all.

So one day… Yusuf looked in her eyes.

And he knew. She wanted a hug.

She and Quynh were fighting, he wasn’t sure about what. He and Nicolo learned long ago to keep their noses out of the fights between them, let them work it out in time. When Quynh angrily stormed away from camp, Nicolo and Yusuf kept their heads down and focused on repairing their clothing. 

Andromache sat next to Yusuf in a huff, pulling her knees to her chest and looking miserable. Yusuf’s chest  _ ached  _ with the urge to comfort her, and Nicolo rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Andromache,” He called, and she picked up her head to look at him “my beloved is dying to offer you comfort, please let him.”

Yusuf shot him a glare, and Nicolo peacefully smiled back. 

Yusuf turns to explain but Andromache just shoots forward and hugs him around the neck, grumbling as she does so. Yusuf brings his arms around her, holding her tight. 

They just… stay like that, silent and warm until Andromache sighed and says “okay, this is fantastic.” 

“He gives the best hugs,” Nicolo agreed. 

(Yusuf is the first person to touch and comfort and hold Andromache after Quynh is ripped from them. He never really stops after that.)

* * *

**_Sebastien_ **

At first, comforting Sebastien is easy as breathing. They cut him down from his noose and Yusuf’s arms are the ones he collapses into, shaking with frostbite and trauma. 

For two weeks it’s all hands on arms and hugs in bed as Sebastien learns about their new life, and then abruptly it’s gone. Sebastien goes back to his family and for about thirty-five years they don’t hear a word from him.

When he does return, it’s with the heavy weight of grief that they are all too familiar with, and Yusuf can’t bring himself to comfort him the way he knows how.

Sebastien wants space, he reasons. He’s just lost everything. Yusuf knows how that feels. 

Yusuf keeps on believing this until the night that Sebastien stumbled drunkenly into Yusuf and Nicolo’s bedroom, flopped on the bed behind Yusuf, and ripped him away from Nicolo to cuddle him like a teddy bear. 

Sebastien is very lucky they weren’t asleep yet when he did that, or Nicolo would have killed him on instinct.

After that, Yusuf slowly tries to bridge the gap and finds that Sebastien is a clingy drunk who is ashamed of it sober.

Yusuf’s attempts sputter and die, relegated to the same hugs he gives everyone else. He’s sad about it but figures Sebastien will tell him if he’s changed his mind.

(He doesn’t. It’s only in the aftermath of London that Joe breaks down sobbing as he realizes how badly he fucked up.

Nicky doesn’t forgive him for a long time after that, but when Booker comes back Joe makes a point of welcoming him with open arms)

* * *

**_Nile_ **

Nile is the hardest by far.

She’s so like Joe. They love art, they have the same sense of humor. They’re tactile by nature and Nile is fierce and strong and beautiful and Joe loves her. 

But.

Nile enters their world on the curtails of one of the  _ worst  _ betrayals in Joe’s very very long life. A betrayal which he, no matter what Nicky says, is at least partially responsible for.

He has to do right by Nile. His heart can’t take this pain twice. 

Nicky laughs at him when he confesses his worries, then holds him close and says that Nile of all people will love his hugs, Joe, stop worrying so much. 

And, well… 

He starts small, same as always. But Nile, oh,  _ Nile  _ is the one who glances at him when he touches her arm and immediately shifts closer to curl against his side. 

Nile hugs him first, and Joe loves her for it.

(When Quynh and Booker come blasting back into their lives, Nile is the first person to drag her entire family into what she calls a “cuddle puddle”

It involves pillows and blankets and  _ touching  _ and Joe decides it’s the greatest invention of the modern world.)

* * *

**_Joe_ **

Joe is, by nature, a kind person.

He doesn’t say this out of vanity — he says it because he  _ means  _ it because he abhors violence when it can be avoided and doesn’t relish in blood and death the way some people do. 

He’s also extremely tactile, will become  _ unmoored in his own body  _ if he goes too long without… well,  _ touch.  _ It’s pathetic, really, the way he relies on the feeling of his family living and breathing beneath his hands. Hands that were not bred for killing, hands which had the best calligraphy in his classes and preferred the handle of a paintbrush to the hilt of a sword.

About a year after Quynh and Booker’s return to their life, Joe agrees to go undercover in a human smuggling ring. It is yet another place where he is seen as lesser because of his skin color, but Booker didn’t speak Arabic and Nicky couldn’t act American enough. 

Those are the reasons he tells himself anyway. In reality, he’s a self-sacrificing idiot who would rather let himself be seen as a piece of meat than allow his family to interact with these vile people.

They win the day, rescue a boat full of girls and women in Burqas and Hijabs and men with long beards and features like Joe’s. People who had been called all the names he had been. People who Joe had tried to protect as best he could for three  _ months.  _

Three months. No contact. No ability to fight back. 

Those fuckers hadn’t even used his  _ name,  _ real or assumed. They’d just called him…

Joe’s breath hitches as he clenches his fingers harder around his ears. The shower’s off now, but the world feels so  _ loud,  _ and  _ bright.  _ His head is spinning. 

He’s curled up in a tight little ball between the toilet and the sink- the smallest place he could fit into in the safe house they were hiding in. Nicky had shooed him out of the kitchen, told him to shower. Joe had managed to get as far as getting redressed before the mission really hit him- he hadn’t felt a kind touch in months, and he just wanted everything to  _ stop  _ for a little while. He isn’t even Joe anymore, isn’t even  _ Yusuf  _ he’s just an exposed nerve ending, aching and burning in the light. 

Someone pounds on the door to the bathroom. “Joe! C’mon, Nicky says the food is almost ready!”

The  _ sound  _ he makes is awful, ripped from his throat out of fear and shame. Really, it’s _B_ _ ooker,  _ not the Spanish inquisition who had killed him so many times before Nicky had freed him, back when he was a person and not a useless ball of nerves. 

The knocking is softer now. “Joe? Joe, Answer me or I’m coming in.”

He wants to  _ scream,  _ beg the- the smuggler, the crusader, the supremacist- what year is it again? Who does he have to fear- 

_ It’s Booker!  _ The rational part of Joe’s brain screams,  _ we forgave him! Stop being a coward! _

“If you wanted privacy you should’ve locked the-“

The door swings open, and Booker stares at him for a second. Shame fills every inch of Joe and he buries his face against his knees, fingers scrabbling in his short hair and longing for his curls. 

“Oh, Joe.” Booker’s voice is softer now, and he crouches down in front of him, face open and honest. “Okay, okay  _ mon frere,  _ I’m going to touch your shoulder now,  _ oui?”  _

A warm hand settled on him, and Joe’s entire body shuttered, anchoring in on the point of contact. Not the one Joe wants, but he’ll take  _ anything  _ to tie him down to his own worthless, useless flesh. 

“We have to get up,” Booker says softly, calmly. “Can you stand? I’ll take you to Nicky.”

Yes, Nicky. He wants Nicky. Nicky is safe and home and Joe doesn’t need  _ words  _ with Nicky. But Nicky is cooking, and Joe can’t disturb that. He can’t- he can’t move.

Suddenly, his breathing picks up, and he’s a raw nerve again.  _ He can’t move. _

“Shit,” Booker curses, then looks over his shoulder. “Nicky! Get up here!”

Joe makes another desperate, broken noise, because disturbing Nicky is exactly what he didn’t  _ want,  _ Book. He has to stop him, reassure Nicky he’s fine and no one needs to worry.

He’s making his family  _ worry,  _ how awful is that?

He shoots to his feet so fast that he whacks his head on the medicine cabinet, and Booker immediately hauls him in for a hug. 

Things slow down, marginally, and he feels Booker’s hands check him for injury. Booker has big hands, with large fingers that are calloused from a life of hard work before immortality. Joe likes to think that his children and wife loved Booker’s hands, before he was Booker. 

Booker is moving him, he realizes belatedly. He’s speaking too, keeping up a steady stream of all the words Joe is supposed to have. He drags Joe down the stairs, half carrying him whenever Joe’s knees buckle. They get to the living room, and everyone is  _ staring. _

Joe whimpers again, burying his face against Booker. Quynh and Andy will  _ see him,  _ why couldn’t he have stayed in the bathroom?

“Nicky! C’mon!” 

_ Don’t interrupt him, I’m fine!  _ Joe wants to scream, even as every piece of him craves Nicky’s arms around him, holding him together as he flies apart. 

_“Basta, Basta,_ I’m coming.” Nicky was flicking a towel over his shoulder as he entered. “What’s-“ 

He sees Joe, wearing one of Nicky‘s hoodies and  _ trembling.  _ His face crumpled, and he crossed the rooms in long strides.  _ “Ya amar-“ _

Joe doesn’t even consciously decide to move, but he rips himself from Booker and collapses into his husband, hiding in Nicky’s button-down and letting him block out the world. 

Nicky wraps his arms around him, one hand cupping the back of Joe’s head and the other pressing against his back. “Shh, easy my love, I have you.” 

“Is he okay?” Nile asks quietly, and Andy explains “we all have moments when we shut down after bad missions. Joe just needs-“

He tunes her out. He needs to get a damn grip is what he needs. He needs to stand up and laugh it off and go for a run- but he can’t move, can’t lift his head from Nicky’s chest, and is shaking too hard to do much more than shuffle over to the couch and clutch Nicky’s shirt. 

A third hand touches his head, and Quynh’s nails scratch along his scalp. Nicky’s hand falls to rub his neck and shoulders. 

Joe focuses on the points of contact, of Andy sitting against his leg and resting her head there, of Booker’s hand joining Nicky’s on his back. 

“I’ll go finish dinner-“ Nile starts, and Joe makes another desperate noise. He needs his family here, with him. Nicky kisses his head.

“Just turn off the stove and join us, Nile. We’ll order in tonight.” 

Joe presses his face tighter against Nicky, because now he’s ruined  _ dinner. _

“I’m- I’m sor-“ Joe stutters out, and Nicky shushes him again.

“No apologies, not for this.” He says softly, squeezing him. 

Nile presses herself against Joe’s other leg. Someone turns on the tv. They all get comfortable, crammed onto one sofa, and laying all over one another.

Joe closes his eyes, surrounds himself with his family, and breathes and keeps breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unexpected alternate POVs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is.... unexpected. This was supposed to be a one shot but apparently Joe's family wanted their say so here we are I guess!!!
> 
> Dedicated to Luca Marinelli, who's birthday was a few days ago!!

**_Touching_ **

Nicolo thinks that Yusuf is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. 

In the months since they’d laid down their swords, Nicolo has watched Yusuf bathe every day, watched him glow in the sun, watched him smile and laugh and generally be  _ gorgeous. _

He hates these feelings. This man is supposed to be his enemy, and these thoughts are sinful. Mostly he keeps them to himself, tells himself that Yusuf has been sent to test his faith and he will pass through these hardships eventually.

And then, Yusuf gets disemboweled. 

He’s never had an injury that serious before, despite Nicolo’s best efforts. The bandit who does the deed doesn't just cut his stomach open, he then stabs the entrails in the wound and drags them out.

Nicolo kills him. He kills him good and dead and then stabs him a few more times for good measure before looking back to Yusuf. Who’s still dead.

Nicolo feels like the bottom has fallen out of his world.

Maybe this is too much. Maybe this is the limit of their strange gift. Maybe Yusuf is gone for good, and Nicolo will never see him smile again or hear one of his poems or see him laugh or learn what he looks like in the ocean or one of the other million and one things Nicolo was desperate to learn about him.

Nicolo grabs his… his  _ friend  _ to his chest and cries like a child.

And then, a miracle amidst miracles, Yusuf wakes up.

They turn a corner after that. Nicolo allows hands on shoulders, kisses on the cheek, sharing a bedroll. And eventually, he confronts the biases that the church built him upon. 

And he realizes.

Yusuf is no demon, he’s an angel. He’s  _ Nicolo’s  _ angel, sent from the universe to make Nicolo smile wider, to make him laugh louder, to make his heart beat faster, and make him  _ happy,  _ so deliriously happy as he has never been in his life.

Yusuf’s touch becomes as welcome as the breeze against his skin. His kisses are anchoring points tying Nicolo to the earth, giving him a reason to come back every time he is killed. 

Nicolo is in love. Yusuf  _ is  _ his love. His heart will live forever in Yusuf’s chest and his soul will always belong to Yusuf Al-Kaysani. And that is all.

(“Do you ever think about other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’ve been together so  _ long,  _ Nicky-“

“Why would I? Why would I look at anyone but you when you’re so clearly the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“And if you wake up tomorrow and feel differently?”

“Joe, all my tomorrows belong to you.”)

* * *

**_Braiding_ **

Quynh’s new brothers are adorable.

When she started having the dreams, she hated them. She thought they would replace Lykon, would  _ try  _ things with her and Andromache since they were  _ men  _ and they were  _ warriors  _ and that was never a good combination.

But they weren’t. They were as kind as Lykon, as gentle as the one they lost. Yusuf and Nicolo are so in love with one another and so kind to everyone around them. 

Quynh adores them. 

It takes a while to find their footing, both personally and in battle. Andromache and Quynh have been doing battle together for centuries, they barely needed to talk anymore. Nicolo and Yusuf had less experience, and no experience fighting with them. They get the hang of it eventually.

Personal things took a little longer, but then Quynh spent a mission in an Inn with Yusuf and she found out that the man had magic hands who could coax her hair into the most beautiful braids she’s ever seen. Even  _ Andromache  _ admires his skills.

Nicolo is unbearably cocky about it, proudly proclaiming that his husband is clearly the most perfect being on the planet, skilled in everything and that he, therefore, is the luckiest man in the world to be married to Yusuf. 

Like she said, her brothers are adorable. She’s honored to fight by their sides and break her bread with them. 

And then she’s ripped from them. She’s ripped from Andromache and the world at large. For  _ centuries. _

When she gets out of the coffin, when she finally gets to the surface, once she finally  _ finally  _ educates herself about the new world and gets over her anger and starts to heal, once she  _ goes home… _

Well. Her hair is a mess. And she needs one of Yusuf’s extra special hugs.

She spends a day with Andromache, then she walks out of the bedroom, plants herself in Yusuf’s lap, and cries long and hard when she realizes he opened his arms for her like he was waiting, preparing all these years for this moment. 

(“Speaking of hair, what did you do to yours?”

“I cut it.”

“Why?! It looked so good! Andromache and Nicolo too, everyone cut their hair!”

“It was impractical, my curls get so disgusting when they're long, you know that!”

“It looked amazing! Nicolo! Come over here and tell him he should grow his hair out again, stop laughing at me!”)

* * *

  
  


**_Hugging_ **

Andromache didn’t remember her family. She didn’t remember their smiles or their home, she had no feelings towards them except a vague sense of bitterness.

And mostly, that was just fine. She had a  _ new  _ family, one that couldn’t leave her. 

Except they could. Just like Lykon had.

Andromache tries, really and truly tries not to make comparisons. Seeing Lykon’s ghost in Yusuf’s smile was cruel to all of them. Wondering if Lykon’s hugs were as immortalized in Yusuf as his laughter just made her sad. 

She wondered about this to Quynh, once, if Yusuf was simply Lykon reincarnated. To which Quynh had replied that Lykon had been grumpy when he chose to be, and snarky, and was far more like Nicolo.

(From across the fire, Yusuf had proclaimed that he and Nicolo were of one soul, so obviously they were  _ both _ parts of Lykon, now go the fuck to sleep before he lets Nicolo kill them.)

(They’d laughed. That had been a good night. They’d gone to England to free heretics the next day.)

Andromache does not  _ want  _ to hug Yusuf. She doesn’t want to grow attached to his smiles or his laughter because she knows how this life bitters you, she knows that someday Yusuf will be as angry and hurt at the world as can be, and she doesn’t want to miss his joy. 

But. He doesn’t.

She doesn’t know how- maybe it’s Nicolo, maybe it’s just  _ Yusuf-  _ but his passion is never tempered, his laughter remains loud and his smiles are always warm. 

Yusuf becomes their beacon. Their optimist. Their constant source of light. He may be Nicolo’s sun, but to Andromache, he becomes the guiding star of her heart. 

Nicolo may be the one to remind her that they can do good, but Yusuf makes her  _ believe  _ it. 

So Yusuf is the one who carries her away from England, hugs her even when she doesn’t want anyone to touch her except Quynh, her heart, her breath. 

Yusuf’s hugs really are spectacular. When she loses her immortality, his are the first arms she turns to.

(“Why do you pick me up when you hug me?”

“Quynh is smaller than you and you don’t let anyone else grab you. You deserve to get lifted off your feet every once in a while.”

“The next time we go dancing I’ll let you do a lift with me.”

“We both know you’ll just end up leading and dipping me.”

“That’s the fun part!”)

* * *

  
  


**_Holding_ **

Sebastien’s new brother is strong.  He can carry Nicholas away from battle and carry Andrea to bed when she’s too drunk to walk.

He catches Sébastien when he falls from his cut noose.

It’s the first warm thing in freezing Russia, and Sebastien never wants it to end.  Only it does. He walks out of that warm and comforting embrace and loses his entire world.

The first time Joseph tries to embrace him after the deaths of his family, Sebastien cries into his shoulder. It’s every inch as perfect and warm as he remembers, and it makes him cry because  _ he’ll never hold his children again-  _

He shoves away from the hold, and only when he’s drunk does he admit he misses them. 

And then. 

Well. 

When Copley approaches him Sebastien is lonely and drunk and he will do  _ anything  _ to change that. So he fucks everything around him up. 

Exile is the perfect punishment for him, and he really  _ does  _ intend to last the hundred years if that’s what his family needs to forgive him. 

He doesn’t expect Quynh to wander back into his life six months in.

It takes some doing, Quynh is angry and sad and knows nothing about the modern world. But in time, they start leaning on one another, healing together.

Quynh’s holds are tight and bony. She bemoans the lack of “Special Yusuf Hugs” in her life.

So they go home.

And Joe welcomes him with open arms. 

Booker sinks into it, let’s himself be held in all the ways his children cannot. He doesn’t let himself take it for granted this time.

(“You know, I would’ve given this for all those years.”

“I know. I wish I had been in a position to accept it.”

“Well, now I know better. I’m not letting go this time, Book, not ever.”)

* * *

**_Cuddling_ **

Finding out that Joe is a cuddler is the single least surprising thing about him.

Joe is one of the kindest, gentlest people she’s ever met. He has the soul of a poet and the soft hands of an academic. He excitedly debates art history with her and spins glorious tells about Nicky in the 1700s. 

Nile loves her new brother, so the first time he says “hey can I hug you?” She almost screams “you can hug me literally any time.”

This turns into cuddling.

Nicky and Joe aren’t one of those couples that lay all over one another, their much more comfortable sharing space than they are crammed onto a too-small couch. Nile on the other hand, fits perfectly in the space between Joe’s side and the arm of a chair.

They become remarkably comfortable with each other. Feet on laps, arms over shoulders, kisses on the head, it’s perfect.  Joe is her go-to post nightmare hug and the one she immediately latches onto when they need to pretend to be straight couples.

When Quynh and Booker return and there is a quiet rift between them all, Nile gets the extreme pleasure of introducing her family to  _ cuddle puddles _

Joe happily takes the spot on the bottom of the pile, his family curled atop him and his arm around his husband. 

Nile presses against her family and she’s  _ home. _

(“You and Nicky don’t cuddle enough.”

“Oh trust me, we cuddle plenty. Just not where others can see since-“

“-Please don’t say it-“

“Our cuddling tends to divulge into something else.”

“Oh my god, I  _ hate you,  _ Joe.”

“Love you too, squirt.”)

* * *

**_Supporting_ **

Nicky hated this mission from the very beginning. 

He objected, intensely, to anything that put Joe in danger and or separated them. months undercover with men who were trafficking Islamic people was a  _ terrible  _ risk.

But Joe had given him puppy eyes, and used Nicky’s  _ we could do some good  _ line against him. 

How Nicky had ever thought this man, this kind and  _ gentle  _ soul who would give his literal heart to a stranger who needed it was a  _ demon  _ will forever be a mystery to Nicolo. 

Andy and Quynh spend most of their time monitoring Joe, since if Nicky did it he would just get angry. Any time they told Nicky how Joe was doing, they just shrugged and said “fine. He’s lonely.” 

It was a lie, but telling Nicky that those bastards spent their days verbally abusing his husband would help no one. 

By the time Joe finally had gathered enough intel and saved enough people, three months had passed. They stormed the warehouse, saved the victims, killed the assholes who dared make Joe look so sad, and gone home.

Nicky had kissed Joe repeatedly, held him close, and made him smile. Joe had excused himself for a shower while Nicky started cooking. 

Nile was the one to notice.

Nicky stuck his head in the living room, smelling distinctly of garlic and chives. “Dinner’s in ten.”

“Joe’s been up there a while,” Nile frowned “should I-“

“I’ll go,” Booker huffed, hefting himself off the couch. He had to piss, and the upstairs bathroom was nicer. 

He went up the stairs and pounded on the door with a little more force than necessary. “Joe, c’mon! Nicky says dinner is almost ready!” 

No answer. Booker frowned. “Joe? C’mon man, I need to take a piss!”

Nothing. No crass remarks, not even a snort. He didn’t hear the shower running. Anxiety spiked in Booker’s chest. “Joe? Joe, answer me or I’m coming in.” 

Still nothing. Booker tried the knob and sighed in relief when he found it unlocked- breaking down a door was not on his wishlist for the day. 

“If you wanted privacy you should’ve locked the-  _ oh.” _

Joe was curled in a tight little ball between the toilet and the sink, staring at nothing and  _ trembling.  _ His face, already gaunter than usual from three months without Nicky’s cooking, was pale and clammy. His fingers were twitching around his ears like they were looking for curls to latch onto. 

They should’ve expected this. They all compartmentalize, shove anything that doesn’t involve surviving the mission into a balloon deep inside them. Bad missions make the balloon pop, and sometimes it would be too much at once and they would, quite simply, shut down.

Joe, as the self-designated team optimist, often had the worst of it.

“Oh Joe,” Booker crouches in front of him, moving slowly. “Okay, okay  _ mon frere,  _ I’m going to touch your shoulder now,  _ oui?”  _

He did, and a small amount of tension leached out of him. Joe more than anyone relied on touch to ground him, and in three months he’ll bet he didn’t get so much as a joking slap on the back. 

Booker’s heart clenches in his chest. He wishes he could kill those guys again. 

“We have to get up,” Booker says softly, “can you stand? I’ll take you to Nicky.” 

Something in Joe’s gaze shifts at the mention of Nicky, of course, it does, Nicky is as vital to Joe as breathing. Booker is 100% sure that Joe could be a brain dead vegetable and still seek Nicky out. Joe’s muscles tense and shift, but his joints don’t move.

Panic floods his gaze again, and Joe’s breathing hitches. Booker curses, this is worse than he thought.

“Nicky!” Booker shouts “get up here!” 

There’s no response- and really, one of the girls should at least be concerned at this point- and as if registering Booker’s words suddenly Joe shoots to his feet. 

The side of his head slams into the medicine cabinet with an audible crunch. Joe flails to his right, almost stumbling over the toilet before Booker grabs him.

Before he can brain himself on anything else, Booker draws his brother into a desperate hug. 

He feels Joe sag against him a little and sighs, checking his head for injuries. He finds none and presses a small kiss into Joe’s temple. He cut his hair for the mission, everyone will be glad when his curls grow back. 

“Alright Joe, let's go see what that husband of yours is cooking, hm? It smelled great, something with lots of garlic that you’ll love.” 

Booker doesn’t know why, but he keeps rambling about dinner as he drags Joe down the stairs. He can’t think of anything better to talk about, and without Joe filling the space, everything feels too quiet. 

He sees Quynh’s face fill with fear when they get to the living room. “Is he-“

“He’s completely shut down,” Booker says, “Nicky! C’mon!” 

In the kitchen, Nicky sighs and sets down the pan he was drying, flicking his towel over his shoulder and giving the food one last stir before turning towards the living room- shrimp and garlic and chives, something that would make Yusuf smile. “Basta, Basta, I’m coming!”

His heart stops when he sees Joe leaning heavily on Booker, pale as a ghost.

For an awful, terrible second Nicky thinks Joe has stopped healing, that something from the fight earlier was bleeding and he was about to lose his husband. Fearfully, Nicky scans him, looking for the wound, trying and failing to prepare himself for the stab of pain that he would get when he confirmed that he was going to lose his other half.

But it doesn’t come. Joe isn’t bleeding, he’s fine. 

Well, physically. Emotionally…

Nicky’s face shifts and he crosses the living room.  _ “Ya amar-“ _

That’s as far as he gets before Joe rips himself away from Booker with a heart-rending sound and stumbles into Nicky’s waiting arms, sagging against him. Nicky cups the back of Joe’s head, pressing his face to Nicky’s chest- if Joe finds it safe there, then no one will move him from there. Nicky won’t let them.

“Shh,” Nicky whispers, “shh, easy my love. I have you.” 

Joe whimpers softly, giving Nicky all his weight and Nicky can take it, he swears he can take it. 

For Yusuf, he would become like atlas. He would carry the weight of the world so his husband never had to. 

He shuffles them over to the couch, hyper-aware of their family watching them. 

“Is he okay?” Nile asks, and Quynh hides her face in Andy’s shoulder. She’s had her fair share of shutdowns in the last several months. It’s hard to watch Joe like this.

Andy runs her fingers through her hair. “we all have moments when we shut down after bad missions. Joe just needs his family with him.”

“He’ll be fine,” Nicky says, in a tone that brokered no argument. He would be, eventually, with time and some love from his family.

Quynh rises from her place against Andy’s shoulder, crossing silently and leaning over the back of the couch before slowly touching the back of Joe’s head. Joe makes a small, pleased noise, and Quynh smiles, gently scraping her nails along his scalp. Andy crosses to sit against Joe’s leg, while Booker clambers onto the couch next to him and rubs his back. 

Nicky beams at them. Nile stands shakily. “I’ll go finish dinner-“

Food would help, she could do food, she could-

Joe made another one of those heart-rending, desperate noises, and Nicky gave her a smile. “Just turn off the oven and join us, Nile, we’ll order in.”

Nile nodded and darted into the kitchen, turning off the stove and covering the food, then grabbed her phone and slid into the open spot against Joe’s other leg. She ordered some pizzas online, and turned on some random sitcom. 

In a while, they’d flip to a movie. They’d eat pizza and Joe would smile again. 

For right now, they press against him, keep him from flying apart. They communicate their love in the best way Joe knows. 

Together. They’ll get through this together. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is www.flamingbluepanda.tumblr.com, I love you all!!


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